


King's Angel

by PippinTheRenegade



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: AU siblings, Arranged Marriage, Chance Meetings, Gratuitous Use of Beds, M/M, Misunderstandings, Perpetually Angry Enjolras, Smitten Grantaire, royal au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinTheRenegade/pseuds/PippinTheRenegade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras may be a prince, but that does not mean he enjoys everything that comes with the title. He hates how royals place themselves so high above everyone else, most of all his own father, and how no one in the castle will listen to him outside of his sister and his two close friends and personal servants. To make matters worse, his father has arranged for him to marry a stranger from another kingdom, dragging him further into this insipid power struggle. So he does the only sensible thing in that kind of situation: he runs away.</p><p>AKA, the arranged marriage royalty AU that nobody asked for but I wrote anyway. Tags will be added as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King's Angel

The fanfare of trumpets outside his window heralded the arrival of... someone, though the particular details of who and why were of little consequence to Enjolras. Important royalty or not, he had no interest in meeting whatever foreign dignitary or messenger had stopped by today. Not unless they were here explicitly to see him. He groped for a pillow and stuffed it over his head until the trumpets stopped.

He took in the moment of silence that followed gratefully, his grasp on the pillow relaxing, until the soft, familiar murmur of muffled street sounds could be heard again. A messenger, then; visitors of importance drew far more attention. Deciding that whatever the news was could wait, Enjolras pulled the covers over his head and slipped back off to sleep.

What felt like not a minute later, there was a knock, short and loud, on his bedroom door. Enjolras awoke with a start, only to hug a pillow close to his face in a stubborn refusal to get up. Court responsibilities be damned.

Another knock, which drew an aggravated groan from the prince, was quickly followed by a familiar voice. "Are you awake, my lord?" Courfeyrac asked, and the door creaked on its hinges as he leaned on it. "Your father has something to discuss with you, so he send me down."

Enjolras sat himself up, wavering a moment before he mustered the resolve to stay that way, and made another noncommittal groan. He kept the blanket over his head like a shroud, content to rub the sleepiness from his eyes in the semi-darkness. He tucked the pillow close to his chest and half leaned on it for support.

Courfeyrac took that grunting noise as permission to enter, so he slowly opened the door and slipped inside. Laying his eyes on the half-awake lump of bedding that was Enjolras, he crossed his arms over his chest and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Honestly, Enjolras," he chided, any hint of formality banished from his voice, "what would you ever do without me, hm? Stay in bed all day?"

Enjolras mumbled back, "Probably." He peeked out from the corner of the blanket. "No 'your highness' blabber today, just straight to names and sass?" Not that he missed the title; if he could get everyone in the castle to be so compliant and stop bowing and calling him all manner of honors every two seconds, he would be beyond grateful.

"Nope." Courfeyrac pulled back the curtains and opened the window, breathing in the summer morning air with a smile. Wonderful warm days were meant to be enjoyed outside, not stuck in a hall with the unpleasant company that was their king. And definitely not in bed. He rounded on the unexpecting Enjolras, snatching the edge of his blanket and yanking it off his head and down to the floor. "Not until you get your highness out of bed anyway."

Enjolras scrabbled to catch the blanket and failed. He shivered, hugging the pillow all the tighter to keep hold of its warmth, and shifted around to stare Courfeyrac down. "You know, that is still somehow less rude than all that noise this morning."

Courf seemed to be ignoring him. He had his back to the prince, rendering the pointed glare all but useless, and browsed over the open wardrobe across the room. "What do you want to wear today?" he asked over his shoulder, trailing his fingers over the fine fabrics.

Resigned to this fate, both being awake and bullied out of his room, Enjolras sat up straighter until the knot in his spine popped loose. "Pick something," he said, stretching one arm high over his head. "Something simple," he added when he spied the way Courfeyrac lingered over a heavily embroidered black vest. A snort of derision arose from the wardrobe, and a light cream shirt and matching breeches landed on the bed a moment later.

"Put those on, then." Courfeyrac gave a dismissive wave but kept his attention solidly focused on the clothes. Simple. Not an easy thing to pull off with this selection. He brushed something leather, sturdy, and pulled it from the silks and brocades. The garment was a leather jerkin, dyed to a clay red, stitched only where necessary. The only embellishment was the forward lion's head stamped on the back, which was discreet enough that he figured it would pass. "This more to your liking?"

Enjolras tugged the shirt over his head, then nodded his approval before fiddling with the ties on the sleeves. Courfeyrac set the jerkin down and took hold of Enjolras' wrist, tying the cuff with practiced fingers. "You don't have to dress me, you know," the prince grumbled, fixing the knots to a more comfortable position.

Courf laughed. "I do, but how long have I known you?"

"Um..." Enjolras made a face. "Twenty-one years?"

"Exactly, and I know you would be here for another year trying to make those ties work on your own." Courfeyrac seated himself on the bed and took Enjolras' hand in his own. They had seen a lot together in just over two decades, along with the third of their party, Combeferre. Though the two had been hired- bought, nearly, for how little they had seen their families since infancy- as whipping boys for the young prince, the three had grown into far more than that. They were friends, brothers in everything but blood, though they still had to fulfill the roles of "servants" and "prince" in the public eye. They shared everything between them and held no resentments. "Combeferre will be up in a minute with breakfast, and then you should go see what your father wants."

Enjolras nodded, a smile cracking though his irritated morning mask. "Fine, yes," he relented, running his thumb absently over the side of the other man's palm. "Accept help, I-"

Another knock on the door, lighter than Courfeyrac's had been, interrupted him. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Courf muttered, rolling his eyes. "He is up and decent, Ferre, come in!"

The door swung open fully, only for "Ferre" to not be the one behind it. In a flurry of bouncing brunette curls and red and gold dress, his sister, Cosette, bounced across the room and onto his bed- he could have sworn her feet only touched the floorboards twice. She pulled Enjolras into a fierce, full-bodied hug and breathed in giggles in his ear. Her handmaiden, Eponine, hovered by the door, one hand raised in a feeble protest as the princess continued her giddy display.

Enjolras squirmed in her grip, and Cosette released him just enough to hold him at arm's length. "I'm so happy for you!" she squealed, the smile on her face as wide as the sky. "I couldn't believe the news when I heard it, but it's true isn't it? Oh, I can't wait to tell Marius! He'll be thrilled!"

"Um, Cosette?" Enjolras tried, though she tittered over him the first time. "Cosette!" She stopped, at last, and he could breathe. "What exactly are you happy about? Is this about the messenger from this morning?"

She cocked her head and looked for all the world like those sparrows she fed on the windowsill. "You haven't..." She turned to Courfeyrac, who frantically waved away the question before she could ask it. "No one told you? One of the neighboring kingdoms sent a proposal this morning. You are to be married, brother."

"I'm what?!"

* * *

"What exactly is the meaning of this?" The snarl Enjolras wore would have cowed any weaker man, but no amount of scowling and raised voice would make his father flinch. Courfeyrac stood several feet behind him, still clutching the jerkin and breathing heavy from chasing the enraged prince from his room to here.

His father barely twitched when his son had burst into the main hall, half dressed and shoeless, hair untied and angry as fire. The king merely sat up a bit straighter and set his jaw. A twitch of tensity under his blond and silver beard was all that betrayed his annoyance at the prince's reaction.

"The meaning of this-" The king spoke slowly, his dark blue eyes boring a hole through his son's chest. "-is that you will finally be doing your duty to your family. Securing alliances are what marriages are for, and at last someone has come along willing to take you."

"Take me?" Enjolras' lip curled in disgust. "I am not a chess piece! And my _duty_ is to my people, the people of this kingdom, and I have done more for them than you!" He ran charities under his father's nose through a handful of servants, smuggled food and coin from the castle nightly, and more than that. He loved the people, hated the distance between them, and the people in turn spoke of him with kindness.

The king slammed his fist against the arm of his throne. "Your _duty_ ," he repeated, his voice growing louder and more commanding with every word, "is to your _family_. The kingdom is my responsibility; yours is to do as you are told or face the consequences!" His glare shifted to Courfeyrac, and the servant flinched involuntarily. "I have already sent their messenger back with a reply, two days' ride. We should expect the prince in no less than a week, preceded by-"

"A _prince?_ " Enjolras hated the way his voice cracked at the word. A marriage was one thing, but this? "Not only have you engaged me to a stranger, but to a man at that?" His whole body shook with rage, all the more so when he caught sight of the smirk on his father's lips.

"I felt it appropriate," the king said, tapping a finger over the clenched muscle in his jaw. "They specifically asked if I had a son I could give, and I happen to in you. You will greet him, you will impress him, and you will marry him. Now, go." He waved Enjolras away like a child. "I have a court to attend to, and you have clothes to put on."

Enjolras made to step up again, to spit some protest or another, but a light touch on his arm stayed him. He whipped around and met Courfeyrac's eye, and the note of fear he saw there was enough to calm him. He turned on his heel, and the pair left the hall, Enjolras still muttering a string of swears under his breath until he was well out the door.

* * *

He kicked at a suit of armor in the hall and knocked it to the floor with a clatter. "A prince!" Enjolras shouted, punting the helmet down the corridor and barely noticing the pain of metal on bare toes. His anger and a strange inability to process the situation dissolved him into a sputtering mess of rage. "I cannot believe-! The audacity-! The insult-!"

Combeferre shook his head and laid a hand on his prince's shoulder while the other still held the breakfast tray- bread, fruit, and sweet cream that would wait a while to be eaten at this rate. "I know you're angry," he supplied, offering a consoling smile, "but this could turn out for the better."

"How?"

Ferre's smile spread to a grin. "Well, you might scare him off, for one. If this prince is any more timid than you, you'll send him running for the hills with his tail between his legs in less than an hour."

"True." Enjolras shrugged off the hand, then promptly leaned into Combeferre's chest and dropped his voice. "I won't matter either way, though."

Courfeyrac piped up. "Why, exactly, won't it matter?" He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and hugged the leather jerkin to his chest. Enjolras was an unwavering force, but the king had shaken Courfeyrac.

"Because we won't be here." Enjolras' voice was barely above a whisper, just enough for his two friends to hear. "You- we- are leaving. Before this other prince has a chance to be frightened of me."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the beginning of an adventure at the very least. Hopefully I can do everything I want with this and in a way that does the idea justice. Either way, I'm more than happy to have you along for the ride!
> 
> Chit-chats on [my Tumblr](http://www.theblazeofmemory.tumblr.com) and comments and kudos are all very much encouraging! Don't be afraid to let me know what you think!


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